|3rd POV|
9S runs through the corridor of the Bunker and bursts into the command room. The operator androids look at him in confusion, and even Commander White raises an eyebrow.
"9S! What are you doing here? You haven't been called."
"Sorry, ma'am! But I have urgent news!"
White studies him for a moment before replying.
"What's so urgent that you need to interrupt our planning session?"
"Ma'am! Please open the link I sent you!"
9S transmits the forum link to her. Though skeptical, Commander White opens it. Using the terminal beside her, she brings up the display for everyone to see — a livestream.
"What is this? A livestream of an Android eating? That's nothing new, 9S. This is not urgent. Leave, or you'll be punished."
"Wait! Please wait, ma'am! Pod, send her the data!"
The pod beside him flashes, and new data appears on White's screen. She frowns.
"What am I looking at?"
"Answering: This is the data the man provided that proves he is a human."
"What?"
"Answering: It is the sound of his heartbeat, and the scan performed by the drone following him. It shows that he is a walking and breathing human."
White stares at the pod, then at the monitor again — this time with new understanding. If the data is real, this is monumental. She knows the truth about Project YoRHa — the truth that humanity has long been extinct. There's nothing on the moon. Their supposed mission is a lie meant to give androids hope.
But if this data is true… then that hope might be real again.
"What should we do, Commander?" one operator — 2O — asks, while the others whisper excitedly. They don't know the truth about the moon, but the idea of a living human thrills them.
"We need to confirm the information first. Pod, can you locate where this livestream is coming from?"
"Answering: Negative. The frequency is protected. This pod cannot determine the location."
"Tch. This will be difficult. It looks like he's underground, but that's not enough to find him."
"Err… why don't we just ask him?"
White turns toward 9S. "What do you mean?"
"Why don't we ask? He's willing to answer questions. Maybe he'll tell us where he is — or at least give us a clue."
White considers this, then nods. "Go ahead. It's worth a try. Use my console."
"Yes, ma'am!"
9S takes the seat and types his question. Ryan, on the other end, spots the message and smiles — the bait has worked. YoRHa's attention is his. It is now time for him to catch the fish.
He hums lightly and says, "Where am I, huh? Well, like before, I can't tell you. There's a reason for that. We're not ready to leave this place, you see?"
9S quickly types another question.
"The reason? For one — the Maso particles in the air. If we leave this bunker, the White Chlorination Syndrome will spread. I might have immunity, but the others don't. Speaking of Maso… I wonder why it's still around. It's been so long, and no one's found a way to cleanse the planet. Luckily, I woke up first, so I've been reducing the Maso slowly."
The androids feel a cold weight of shame settle over them at those words. For the first time, they realize how deeply they've failed their creators — they were meant to make the planet habitable again. Instead, they've spent centuries fighting machines and ignoring the Maso problem.
"As for the second reason… let me show you."
Ryan takes one last bite of his food, then leads the camera deeper into his facility. The view opens to a massive chamber filled with tubes. Commander White, 9S, and every android in the command room gasp.
Inside the tubes — humans, sleeping. They are floating inside a liquid, breathing while floating inside the tube full of liquid.
"As you can see," Ryan says, "someone has to take care of them. I can't leave my fellow humans inside the stasis liquid. The system's been running too long; it's weakening. I have to keep feeding them nutrient fluid or they'll die."
9S frantically types,
"Sir, please tell us where you are! We'll help you. You're vulnerable, and YoRHa can protect you. Please — we only want to protect you!"
He types and types — the message stretches to two thousand words. Ryan reads it all, then smiles faintly.
"You're right. I do need help. But I can't send coordinates from here. How about this: I'll leave the facility and go somewhere far. When I'm far enough, I'll transmit the coordinates, and we can meet there. The system can manage for a day or two without me."
Commander White immediately orders preparations for deployment — flight units, field teams, everything. But Ryan continues.
"Oh, and please bring a Devola and Popola unit with you. I need them. They're the only ones who understand the machines here. The blueprints should still be in their memory banks."
Those words ripple across the network. Every Devola and Popola unit on the planet feels something stir deep inside them — a buried directive, an awakening. Purpose floods through their systems as they dive into their memory banks, searching for the data.
Data that lets them perform their duty. They will not disappoint the humans who need their help. Not after what their unit type has done in the past.
"Let's meet in two hours. That should give me time to move. I'll wait forty-eight hours for your arrival. Ryan out."
When the livestream ends, the command room explodes into noise. Commander White lets them talk while she focuses on 9S, who stares at the monitor, worried. She understands, but there's no time for that.
"9S," she says, "monitor the forum. When Ryan logs in again, inform me immediately. I'll have the flight units and team ready to launch. I'll also alert the androids on the ground — in case they're near his position."
"Yes, ma'am! Glory to Mankind!"
9S salutes. White returns it and leaves the room.
He stays at the terminal, eyes locked on the forum. The other androids are buzzing — half eager, half skeptical. Some dream of meeting a human. Others whisper that it's a hoax or a trap.
He can't blame them. But YoRHa cannot ignore this. Hundreds of humans might still be alive, and it's their duty to protect them — their creators, their gods.
"Alert: Unit 9S is exhibiting signs of extreme anxiety," Pod 153 drones in its usual monotone. "Proposal: perform breathing exercises to reduce stress."
9S blinks and glances at his pod. "Right! Humans do breathing exercises to calm down, right?"
"Answering: Yes."
He inhales deeply, holds it, and exhales — but it doesn't help. Each breath feels heavier, his chest tighter for some reason. Instead of lowering his stress, it increases it.
"Alert: Unit 9S still exhibits signs of extreme anxiety. Proposal: continue breathing exercises."
"I'm trying!" 9S snaps, then softens his tone. "I'm trying."
"Proposal: Unit 9S should breathe better."
9S groans. "And how exactly does one breathe better?"
"Through the nose," Pod 153 replies — somehow smug.
"Unbelievable."
9S shakes his head and scrolls through the forum while he waits. Time crawls. Commander White eventually returns, composed and ready.
"Any update, 9S?"
"None, ma'am. But it should be—"
A notification appears. Ryan is live again — this time standing in a desert. Sand stretches endlessly around him. The drone pans, then focuses on his face.
"Sorry for the wait. I had to find a good hiding spot. Anyway, you can trace my coordinates now — I'm disabling the protection."
Without hesitation, 9S hacks the network and locks onto the signal. Coordinates flash onto the screen. He transmits them to Commander White.
"We have the location, ma'am! It's near Desert Resistance Camp C-817-F, thirty kilometers west of the camp!"
"Desert Resistance Camp C-817-F… that's Anemone's camp. She has a Devola and Popola unit there as well. I'll inform her of the situation."
White looks at 9S.
"Get to the hangar. The team's waiting. You depart in five minutes."
"Yes, ma'am! Glory to Mankind!"
"Glory to Mankind!"
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